


Over the Garden Wall One-Shot

by ficklefangirl



Category: Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon)
Genre: Sad Wirt, The Unknown (Over the Garden Wall), Wirt's Poetry, Wirtrice, greg - Freeform, otgw - Freeform, otgwoneshot, over the garden wall - Freeform, overthegardenwall, sara - Freeform, wirt - Freeform, wirtriceoneshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-06
Updated: 2017-11-06
Packaged: 2019-01-30 05:13:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12646812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ficklefangirl/pseuds/ficklefangirl
Summary: An over the garden wall one-shot :)





	Over the Garden Wall One-Shot

"Oh, look a bluebird! How pretty!" Sara exclaimed, pointing towards the roof of the school building.

            "Wow, what a fine speciman of fowl," said Jason Funderberker, automatically agreeing with Sara.

            The bird chirped and rustled her wings.

            Wirt smiled wistfully at the bird sitting atop the rooftop. An eastern bluebird, the kind of bird Beatrice had temporarily been turned into. He'd studied bluebirds since then, sometimes reading aloud to Greg. Ever since the Unknown, he'd never looked at a bird the same way. Or anything else for that matter.

            "Oh, there it goes," croaked Jason. "Bye bye birdie!" he giggled most unattractively.

            "Goodbye, Beatrice," whispered Wirt with a heavy heart. His mournful farewell was unheard, and he sighed sadly. "The wings of a bluebird are fragile things, delicate and fluttering just like my heart. When you left me, my love, 'twas like a pair of golden scissors shearing my heart in half and leaving the other piece with you. Now not only am I lost and forlorn, I-"

            "Wirt, are you okay?" Sara put a hand on Wirt's shoulder, and he jumped slightly, startled out of his reverie. "You're doing the weird dazed zoning out thing again. Do you need us to walk you home?"

            "Huh? Oh, no, I-I'm fine." Wirt lifted Sara's hand off of his shoulder and smiled weakly. "I'm just...tired, that's all. I'll be okay. Thank you for offering, though."

            "Are you sure, Wirt? I really don't mind; I don't want you to zone out and get lost again." Sara's voice was full of concern, and normally Wirt would have gladly accepted. But it seemed that it was another one of those days when Wirt's mind insisted on wandering off to the Unknown once again.

            "Yeah, Wirt. You might fall into a lake again," Jason laughed. No one was amused.

            "No, it's all good. You and Jason Funderberker have fun. I'll, uh, see you tomorrow." Wirt waved halfheartedly and left Sara and Jason behind as he went off to find Greg.

            "Hi, Wirt! How was your day today? I found a cricket during recess! I named him Jeff, but then somebody squished him. Oh, and I got a book about dogs from the library!"  
            "That's nice, Greg." Wirt said softly, shuffling his feet as he and his brother headed towards home. "I'm happy for you."

            Greg frowned. "What's wrong, Wirt? You're sad. You always say that you're fine but I can always tell when something's wrong." Greg gazed up at his big brother with wide eyes full of concern. "Did the weird kid with the bad hair ask the girl you gave that tape to on a date or something? Did your lunch taste bad?" When Wirt didn't answer, Greg continued to stare. "Oh, I know." his voice quieted somewhat. "You miss Beatrice again, don't you?"

            Wirt didn't respond. He only hung his head lower and slouched his shoulders. "I'm fine, Greg. Don't worry about it."  
            "See, I was right! You always say 'I'm fine. Don't worry. Everything's good.' when you're sad." The two brothers continued to walk along the sidewalk.

            Greg reached up and grabbed Wirt's hand, holding it as they walked. "It's okay, Wirt. I miss her too. She was nice." A thoughtful expression came over his face for a moment. "Well, not always. Sometimes she was rude. But she did help us a lot, and she was a bird."

            Wirt shrugged emotionlessly. Every single word that came out of Greg's mouth added to the tears that he fought back. He didn't want to cry in front of Greg. He thought that the world was always a happy place, even when wicked Beasts lurked in the shadows. He wouldn't understand how he felt, how his heart hurt whenever he remembered the sarcastic bluebird that had guided them through the Unknown.

            _She was a bird, Wirt. You can't fall in love with a bird. It's weird. Stop it._ He often tried to use logic against himself, but to no avail. Beatrice was human; she was just trapped in the form of a bluebird and he knew it.

            He just hated the fact that she was gone forever. No matter how many stars he wished on or birds he talked to when nobody was watching, he was never going to see her again. She was in the Unknown, and there was no way he could go to the Unknown. People didn't _find_ the Unknown, they ended up there by chance. And once you left, there was no going back. He'd left the Unknown and Beatrice behind, and he needed to let it go, but the memories followed him everywhere.

            "It seems as if I am trying to reach through a wall built of things that are past, of choices made and wrong turns travelled. No matter how hard I try to get to the other side, the memories are all that I can reach. Everything else is far away, untouchable and untangible. Sometimes I wonder if it was even real, if _you_ were even real. After all, what way have I to prove its reality? It is as if you are the light and I am the dark. Although we try, we cannot be together in one sky. We circle around and around, trying to find each other, but there is nothing to be done. We cannot exist together, though I yearn to hear your voice one last time."

            "Wirrrrt," Greg whined. "You're doing the poetry thing again. You'd better shut up, or Mom will make you see a therapist again." Greg stuck out his tongue. "I _hate_ the therapist. He smells funny. And his bowtie is ugly."

            "Be nice, Greg." Wirt glared sternly. "And I'm a poet. I cannot simply give up on poetry. When one has a talent, they do not simply hide it away in a box."

            "Tell that to Jason Funderburker." Greg scoffed. "He didn't tell us he could sing until we were on that frog boat and he just burst into song!" Greg shook his head in disbelief. "Talk about hiding a talent in a box. Well, not a box because he's a frog, but-"

            "Shh, I get the point, Greg. Speaking of whom, did you feed that frog last night?"  
            "Ah, beans!" Greg clumsily ran in through the front door of their house, and Wirt lingered behind, slowly making his way to his bedroom.

            He opened the notebook stashed in his pillowcase and turned to the next free page where he scribbled another note to put in a bottle to throw into the lake in a desperate attempt to reach her.

            _Hey, Beatrice. I saw a bluebird at school today. I knew it wasn't you, but I wish it was. I hate that you're so far away. I miss you. Everything is different than it was before, and I'd rather wander endlessly through the woods with you than live like this where everything feels like a dream and I know I will never be the same person I was before. I miss you so much. Greg does, too. I hope you've had a good day._

_Remember that I love you, Beatrice. Nothing will change that._

_Sincerely,_

_Wirt_


End file.
